


Slipping In and Out

by CoverYourEyes



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Allison & Neil Brotp, Andrew Minyard has issues, Angst, Break Up, Don't You Fret, I'm Going to Hell, Identity Issues, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Multi, Neil has his inevitable breakdown, but it gets better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-10-10 05:23:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10430070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoverYourEyes/pseuds/CoverYourEyes
Summary: Neil was just the newest Alex, Stefan, Chris.  Neil had arrived with dyed hair, false eyes, and an American accent.  ‘Neil’ was a skin he’d slipped on as easily as ‘James’ in England or ‘Jacques’ in Montreal.  He wasn’t anyone, really.  ‘Abram’ might be the common denominator, maybe the neutral label for the conundrum of a human he’d always been, but even that person didn’t exist.Abram didn’t know if he had ever really existed.





	1. The Ending of Neil Josten

ANDREW

 

It was becoming too much.  Andrew knew he wasn’t supposed to have heard it or understood it.  Neil had thought he was asleep when he’d tapped out the damning statement along his spine in Morse code.  Three words, three consonants, five vowels.  They were more of a shackle than anything Andrew had ever come across.

 

Neil was a sketched out vision of a future that Andrew couldn’t afford.  He was a space that Andrew wanted to carve himself into, a fucking hallucination that made him _want to say it back_.

 

He couldn’t have this.  Andrew wasn’t a fucking trained animal; he had let Neil slip a leash around his neck without realizing it.  The panic building in his throat was one of the strongest emotions he had felt in a year.  Christ – he had a _routine_ now.  Someone he was dependent on – someone who depended on _him_.

 

This was nothing.  Nothing, nothing, _nothing_.  But Andrew realized with a twist in his gut that it had become something.  Neil was a runner.  Andrew didn’t get to keep him.  But he _wanted_ to, he wanted to keep Neil so badly. 

 

Neil wouldn’t stay, and Andrew had a habit of tearing things apart before they could do it to him first.

 

Andrew couldn’t be careful.  He couldn’t be soft or whatever it was Neil had deluded himself into thinking he could make Andrew into.  Neil was the definition of a survivor, someone who overcame pain and practically expected it.  But he had slowly begun lowering his walls around Andrew, something he would be forced to realize was a mistake.

 

So without hesitation, that night Andrew walked into Eden’s Twilight.  He let the brunette pull him away from the bar.  Andrew was the one pinning the man to the wall, of course, but Andrew was the one to pull down the collar of his shirt, he was the one who encouraged the man to mark him up with hickeys below his collarbone before shoving him away.  Andrew had a plan to follow, so with detached focus, he did everything he had known would sever off Neil like a limb.

 

Andrew showered.

 

Andrew put on a high necked shirt.

 

Andrew fucked Neil exactly the way he’d learned Neil liked best.  Slowly, so slowly, he did everything he had learned in the past half a year overwhelmed the other man.  He kissed him through his climax and pulled lightly on his grown out hair.  Afterwards, Neil laid back on the bed, smiling far too softly.

 

And then Andrew rolled off the bed, stripped off his shirt, and turned to offer Neil a cigarette.

 

There were a few seconds where Andrew could see the confusion and question on Neil’s face at the marks.  Neil liked to think that he could hide his emotions, that his expression was always closed off, but Andrew had learned his ticks. 

 

The confusion morphed into understanding after another moment and when Andrew saw the expression that took over, he knew that he had destroyed the ‘nothing’ between himself and Neil Josten.

 

* * *

ABRAM 

 

Neil had gotten stupid.  Letting himself drown in Andrew, letting Andrew take him apart and piece him back together, letting Andrew tell him to _stay_ – it was all his own fault.  He was a fucking idiot for reading into things and assuming that Andrew’s words weren’t serious.  Andrew had always been clear that what was between them didn’t exist for him.  Andrew hadn’t ever lied or led him on – it wasn’t his fault.

 

Neil had forgotten what was real and what was fake.  Neil Josten didn’t get to fucking _love_ anything like a stupid child.  Because Neil Josten?  He was _nothing_.  Honestly, it was probably for the best that Andrew had reminded him of that.  Hearing it from Andrew’s mouth – the person who had gotten to know Neil Josten the best – was what he needed to bring himself back to reality. 

 

Neil was just the newest Alex, Stefan, Chris.  Neil had arrived with dyed hair, false eyes, and an American accent.  ‘Neil’ was a skin he’d slipped on as easily as ‘James’ in England or ‘Jacques’ in Montreal.  He wasn’t anyone, really.  ‘Abram’ might be the common denominator, maybe the neutral label for the conundrum of a human he’d always been, but even that person didn’t exist.

 

Abram didn’t know if he had ever really existed.  ‘Neil’ had felt natural, he had felt right, but it wasn’t any more real than other characters he’d played who had felt natural after a bit of adjusting.

 

It _hurt_.  Fuck, that was the worst part.  Abram had felt a nauseous twist in his gut when he realized that Andrew had fucked him right after he’d been with someone else – did he even shower?  Had he been kissing another man’s sweat off of Andrew’s neck?  Abram hadn’t just had sex; it had felt like the most honest he had ever been with another person. He’d never even been attracted to anyone before Andrew, never felt the yearning and desire to be close to someone physically.  While speaking or even body language required planning and intention, in Andrew’s bed it felt like the reactions were wrenched from inside of him.

 

Abram had gotten stupid.  He didn’t want to be ‘Neil’ anymore.  ‘Neil’ was gullible and far too open.  ‘Neil’ had softened and become dependent, he’d pathetically tied himself to another person, and now Abram wanted to reach inside himself and tear out his organs, his feelings, everything he’d done for the last half of a year.  It _hurt_.

 

For now, Abram was safe under the protection of the Moriyama family.  All he had to do was continue playing exy.  He didn’t _have_ to be ‘Neil’ anymore.  In fact, he saw no reason whatsoever to wear the persona of ‘Neil’ ever again.

 

 

* * *

 

JAMES

 

It seemed as though everyone noticed something was different when James walked in to the locker room.  Matt’s eyes lingered on him and when he hadn’t paused before stripping next to Allison, she’d let out a considering little hum.  James didn’t really care, to be honest.  This was the best he had felt in _weeks_.  Abram had slipped into James easily, loving the switch as soon as he had decided to do it.  Because James?  James didn’t really give a shit about _anything_ other than having fun.

 

James pulled on his gear nonchalantly, already planning what to do after practice.  He hadn’t stolen a car in a while, and the rush seemed like the kind of thing that would get his blood running.  He’d done cocaine a handful of times to blend in at a particularly dismal public school a few years ago when his name was ‘Scott’.  Kevin was the first to speak to him, and of course it was exy-related.

 

“You’re unfocused.  Will it affect practice?”

 

James shrugged, a sharp smile on his face when he replied, “I am feeling more than focused, don’t you fret, Not-Captain.”

 

Everyone still in the locker roomed stilled, and Nicky finally said in a confused voice, “What’s with the British accent?”

 

James didn’t bother turning to look at the monster, instead he finished pulling his jersey on over his head when he replied, “Mum was English.  I’ve spoken like this longer than I have with an American accent.  It was getting annoying to keep it up.”

 

Nicky of course immediately said, “It’s hot.”

 

James snorted and finally looked over to Nicky.  With a raised eyebrow, the only thing he said before grabbing his stick and walking onto the court was, “Does it ever get tiring, being so pathetically desperate?”

 

An enormous smile covered his face as he walked on to the court. He fucking _loved_ exy. 


	2. The Descent

 

JAMES

 

It was a bit disconcerting, to be honest.  James was cycling through identities and personalities without really giving himself time to adjust.  One day he’d feel easygoing, unbothered by anyone.  And then for the next week he’d been angry and silent – an echo of Alexei from Russia.

 

He found himself returning to James.  So after a month or so, he decided he might as well stay James, as long as he didn’t let himself forget that he wasn’t real.  It was something he repeated to himself over and over again, until it became solid knowledge in his mind.  It wasn’t exactly hard to do, when he thought over the last conversation he’d had with Andrew.  A simple, “Why?” had been answered quite succinctly.

 

_You’re nothing_.  _You were convenient._

 

And nothing he was.  Of all of the foxes, it had surprisingly taken Kevin the longest to stop talking to him.  James shrugged off every invitation to socialize, had moved into an off-campus apartment, and only really spoken to let the team know that he wasn’t interested.  They had been Neil Josten’s little fucked-up family.  They weren’t _his_.

 

After a month of blissful silence from the team, only punctuated with talk of exy, James was almost startled when a hand suddenly tugged at his hair.  He had thought he was alone in the parking lot, so it came out of nowhere.

 

Whirling around with surprise, he saw that Allison was standing next to him, her hip cocked to the side while her narrowed eyes didn’t move from the top of his head.

 

“You need a haircut.”

 

James shrugged, not really caring all that much.  But… it had become a bit annoying, having to tie his hair back.  And Allison hadn’t ever really bothered with Neil, so it wasn’t as if she’d badger him or expect him to act like he had before.

 

“Alright then.  You know a place?”

 

Allison nodded in response, pulling out her phone and looking something up.  After typing a bit, she looked up and said, “We’ve got an appointment tomorrow at three, I’ll pick you up.  Don’t be late, Neil.”

 

James stopped.  He hadn’t really minded when other people had been calling him that.  But it would be irritating to have to hear it one-on-one for an afternoon.

 

“It’s James.”

 

Allison didn’t look overly startled or concerned.  Instead she only lifted an eyebrow before asking, “Your middle name?”

 

“No.  ‘S just my name now.”

 

* * *

 

ALLISON

 

Allison was an outsider.  She knew that, and wasn’t particularly bothered.  Dan and Renee had been great friends while they were here, but she was the only fifth year senior of the original Fox girls.  She had a few friends on the Vixens, but they were _soft_.  They didn’t get why she played exy.  None of the cheerleaders would ever know what it was like to see red, to feel a rush after getting hit and hitting back.

 

So yeah, maybe she wasn’t as close to anyone on the team as she had been last year, but whatever.  And Neil – _James_ , for some reason now – really did need to update his look.  Allison hadn’t actually expected to enjoy spending time with him.

 

His scathing commentary while they’d been people-watching at the café had matched Allison’s own bitchiness, so joining in for half an hour had made her more relaxed than she’d felt for a while.  James broke the comfortable silence that had taken over when he drained the last of his second coffee and said, “How’s it been without Renee and Dan?”

 

Allison snorted before she responded, “Do you actually care?  Small talk is annoying.”

 

James flashed a grin at that and some of the tension she hadn’t even realized he was holding in his shoulders vanished.

 

“Consider me curious.  You’re one of the more interesting people on the team.”

 

Allison rolled her eyes before responding, “Obviously I am.  So what’s with the sudden change?  You and the monster on the outs?”  She was genuinely curious – they had never really seemed like the kind of on-again-off-again couple she had been with Seth.  And _fuck_ it still hurt to think about him.  She’d been doing the whole one-night stand thing pretty regularly, but she missed the closeness she’d felt around him.  Maybe that was why she’d suddenly decided to hang out with Neil – James. 

 

His expression had completely closed down.  After a deep breath, he leaned back further in his seat and responded in a casual tone that still had a bit of bite – clearly a signal to drop the subject.

 

“Not on the outs if we were never really anything.  It was convenient.”

 

_That_ was a self-loathing thought if Allison had ever heard one.  And it was exactly the kind of thing she had to tell herself wasn’t true about herself every day.  Changing the conversation, she squinted slightly before deciding something.

 

“Do you want to go clubbing with me on Thursday night?  There’s a place closer to Palmetto than Eden’s, and it’s _way_ less trashy.  I haven’t had sex in weeks.”

 

James shrugged, but seemed genuine when he said, “Sure.  Sounds fun.  And setting Kevin off by showing up late to ‘optional’ Friday morning practice will be entertaining.”

 

Allison smirked in response to that, always one to seize the opportunity to knock Day off his fucking high horse.

 

“I’m dressing you.  Come over to the dorm at eight, we’ll pregame and get ready.”

 

James lifted an eyebrow in a condescending manner that still somehow wasn’t unfriendly when he said, “And who will be the DD?”

 

Allison struggled not to scoff before deciding not to bother when she said, “We’re going to uber, obviously.”

 

* * *

 

 

ANDREW

 

Kevin seemed like he was halfway to an aneurism.  Neil and Allison were ten minutes late to practice, which translated to a few hours in his exy-fuelled mind.  Andrew had felt a spark of curiosity, but beaten it down thoroughly.  He didn’t care about Neil.  He _didn’t_.  So he shouldn’t be thinking about him _all the fucking time_.

 

He didn’t believe in regret, so he refused to name the sensation that had been growing in his stomach for the last month as Neil had been drastically changing.  It wasn’t hard to acknowledge that it had coincided with Andrew ending things.  Not-things. 

 

The team was still in the locker room, all of them watching Kevin grow more and more pissed off.  Only a minute later, Allison and Neil walked in nonchalantly.

 

Allison looked as put together as she always did, apart from the eyeliner smudged under her eyes – alarming in and of itself.  Neil, though –

 

Neil’s hair looked like it had never seen a brush and he had glitter in his hair while some kind of shimmering product was smeared across one of his cheekbones.  It didn’t escape Andrew’s notice that Allison was sporting two hickeys only halfway concealed with cover-up.

 

There was no way the two were related, but as Kevin started yelling at the two of them – causing both of them to wince, most likely at the noise instead of Kevin’s disapproval – he didn’t take his eyes off of Neil.  Neil had an enormous smile on as he started putting on his gear, seemingly ignoring Kevin.  When Kevin reached forward to grip his shoulder, Neil whirled around.  The sound of Kevin’s back slamming against one of the lockers silenced everyone in the room, but Neil stepped back a half second later.

 

“Sorry, mate.  Instinct.”

 

Kevin didn’t respond right away, so of fucking course the freshman Jack decided to try to stir shit up.

 

“Josten, you could wear a sign if you want to make it any more obvious you take it up the ass.”

 

Neil didn’t respond, instead he only looked Jack up and down slowly before dismissing him, pissing the freshman off even more.  Before he could say anything else, though, Allison surprisingly cut in.  Slinging an arm around Neil’s shoulders, she pursed her lips in false pity as she said, “Aw, feeling jealous, freshman?”

 

And then she leaned down and pressed a hard kiss to Neil’s mouth, leaving a smudge of pink lipstick below his lower lip.

 

She strutted out of the locker room while calling over her shoulder, “Let’s do it again soon, babe”, ignoring the gaping expressions of most of the Foxes.  Andrew felt a spark of rage when Nicky whipped his head around to look at Andrew with something like concern.  He was fucking fine.  Why the fuck should he care? He didn’t.  And if Neil and Allison started speaking in French throughout practice when Kevin couldn't hear?  Andrew didn’t want to know what they were saying.


	3. Undertow

 

JAMES

 

James went back to the dorms with Allison, struggling to contain his laughter throughout the entire ride in her car.

 

“You know you’ve given them enough to start at least five new bets?”

 

Allison snorted and rolled her eyes, turning on to the road as she said, “Don’t pretend you don’t love the chaos.  If they want to think we’re fucking, that their problem.  We should see how long it takes them to realize we aren’t.  Fifty bucks on three weeks.”

 

“I’ll put one hundred on a month.  I don’t talk to the monsters enough for them to bother looking into it.”

 

Without looking away from the road, Allison stuck out her hand and they shook on it.  Of course when they walked into the dorms, James was lucky enough that three of the monsters were in the common area they had to walk by to get to Allison’s room.  Nicky, predictably, was the one to call out to James, thinking for some reason that James spending time with Allison was a sign that he suddenly wanted to talk any more than necessary with the other Foxes.

 

“So where’d you guys go last night?  Columbia?”

 

James answered primarily out of boredom, and in part because he figured if Nicky’s curiosity was somewhat satisfied he’d shut the fuck up.

 

“No, Allison knows a place.”

 

Allison cut in as she said, “Tight jeans and a little eyeliner will get an underage guy in _anywhere_.”

 

James decided he was in the mood to try to provoke a response from the rest of the monsters, so with an air of false casualty he turned to Aaron and said, “How are things with your Vixen?”

 

Aaron glanced at Andrew, seemingly watching his reaction before he said in a put-on bored voice, “None of your business.”

 

A slow, mean smile took over James’s face, and he kept his voice to a low drawl when he said, “Trouble in paradise?  She’s a fit piece, moving on to greener pastures?”

 

Allison let out an annoyed huff and grabbed his hand before dragging him into the hallway, her pout practically audible when she said, “We have things to do, James.  Be an asshole later when I’m energetic enough to participate.”

 

As he walked out, he heard Nicky mutter, “James?”  So he decided to say one more thing before leaving with Allison.

 

“Playing Neil was getting boring.”

 

* * *

 

ANDREW

 

Things were getting more and more out of control with Neil.  He was erratic and unpredictable, but what infuriated Andrew the most was that the only person he continued to talk to voluntarily for the last few weeks was Reynolds – not someone who would easily cave and tell him what it was that was fucking going on.  Neil wasn’t _his_ anything anymore, and it was easy enough to pretend that it was merely curiosity that was fueling the scathing feeling that crawled up his throat every time he saw an unfamiliar and out-of-place expression on Neil’s face.

 

The entire team was on edge today ever since they had first started changing out.  Neil had been entirely silent other than a few quiet murmurings between him and Allison in French, not speaking a word of English whatsoever, even as she called him _Laurent_ for no fucking reason.  Of course the clear proof of their friendship had made Jack mouth off again.

 

That had quickly found the freshman pinned against the wall, a knife pressed against his torso while Neil had stared at him dispassionately as if not inches away from gutting the kid.  Allison had started talking to him in a mocking tone – once more, in _fucking French_ – before Kevin had rounded the corner, making it clear what the gist of what they were saying was.

 

“’ _Blood out of a uniform’_ , what the fuck – _JOSTEN_.  Off.  Now.”

 

Neil snorted and let Jack stagger away, walking out on to the court after lightly tapping Allison on the shoulder with his racquet. 

 

Now that they were on the court, things weren’t going much better.  For some reason Neil seemed determined to piss Kevin off specifically, calling out to him constantly and yelling things that seemed like they were provoking based on the enraged look slowly overcoming Kevin’s expression.  It all came to a head when Neil had tugged off his helmet and said something to Kevin in an exasperated voice that nobody else could understand.

 

It had earned him a hard punch to the face.

 

Andrew couldn’t stop the small step he took in their direction.  Neil was – shit.  If anything he should be stepping in on Kevin’s behalf, but he couldn’t even pretend that was necessary since Neil didn’t look like he was going to react, instead he lifted a gloved hand to his mouth and prodded at his split lip, pulling it away and staring at the blood in a bored manner.

 

Neil was yanked out of his reverie when Reynolds strode over and grabbed Neil by the wrist.  She didn’t bother looking back at Kevin when she started dragging Neil to the locker room and said, “Josten and I are taking a sick day.”

 

Everyone was shaken, and practice only began again when Kevin started barking orders.  Andrew wasn’t going to ask for fucking permission before following Reynolds and Neil.  With silent steps, he walked far enough into the locker room to be able to hear what Neil and Allison were saying.  A quick glance around the corner of lockers gave Andrew a chance to see how they were positioned.

 

Neil was sitting on the bench, both of his hands clenched in his hair.  Allison kneeled in between his legs and gently held his face in between her hands while she spoke in a soothing voice.  It was the same phrase repeated a few different ways, and Andrew made sure to memorize them as well as the shaky response Neil had given her.  Andrew almost left at that point, but his blood stopped cold when Allison reached in to her locker and pulled out a bottle of pills before giving one to Neil.

 

She was drugging him.

 

* * *

 

 

ANDREW

 

Later that night, Andrew relayed what he had heard to Kevin and asked what it had meant in English.

 

_Who are you today?   Do you still want to be Laurent?_

_I don’t know, I don’t know._

_That’s okay, too, Josten._

 

* * *

 

ALLISON

 

The monster confronting her wasn’t unexpected.  Honestly, Allison had thought it would come much sooner.  But today of all days she was not in the fucking mood to see his face.  Especially when Josten had a fucking breakdown.  He’d been doing better – well.  Allison wasn’t a fucking psychiatrist, and Josten had a fuckton of issues.  But he was slowly starting to figure some things out about who he was – or at least who he thought he wanted to be.

 

It was stupid of the Foxes to have thought that Josten would suddenly choose to be ‘Neil’ and that there wouldn’t be any psychological fallout.  Christ, she couldn’t imagine how he felt.  They’d talked at length about identity issues, and Josten had listened to her go on for hours and hours about how her upbringing had made her wonder if she was a real person, and if she was the person she pretended to be for her parents or the random impulses she had on her own.

 

Seth had heard all of this.  Seth had been a fucking asshole, yeah, but he had _listened to her_ and told her that she was allowed to have issues, even if she had grown up rich.  Even with their new friendship, Josten could have thrown it in her face that his life was no doubt harder than hers.

 

But instead he’d held her while she cried, and spent time making sure their afternoon had been distracting enough for her.  So yeah, Allison would fucking deck anyone who looked at Josten wrong.  Because Josten – whoever it was that he was that day – was her best friend, and he should be allowed to have some fucking time to figure out all of his shit.  If this was what he needed, then it would happen.

 

But today had been a particularly rough day, and taking one of his anti-anxiety meds – well, the ones she was prescribed but were only supposed to be taken on occasions when they were needed and non-addictive – had been an admittance on his part that he wasn’t doing well.  Goading Kevin Day into punching him in the face was also a pretty fucking clear indicator.  But Allison got that, too.  Sometimes getting hit was a jarring reminder that you were alive, and that you were here.

 

Still, the monster slamming her against the hallway of the dorm building was the very last thing she wanted before going to bed.

 

“What the fuck do you have Neil hooked on?”

 

It took a few seconds for Allison to realize what he was talking about, and when she did she saw red.  For fucking _Minyard,_ the person who  – who practically _dared_ Josten to have an identity crisis with the cruel words and actions Josten had told her happened the night his thing with the monster ended – to have been spying on her friend when he was suffering?

 

He could go fuck himself.

 

Minyard didn’t have his knives out and Allison could see Matt approaching to yank him off, so leaning forward, she practically hissed out her words when she said, “Don’t fucking talk about him.  Neil was _nothing_ , remember?”

 

As the monster was pulled off of her and chaos broke out, Allison thought she saw the slightest reaction – of what, she didn’t know – in his expression.


	4. Scar Tissue

ALLISON

 

It was getting both worse and better.  Josten had started to settle down a little bit, and most of what he did now aligned with who he had been when he’d taken on the name “Neil”.  But there were still bad days.  Days when he would panic and cycle through five or ten different personas within a few hours.  Allison was getting better at calming him down when that happened, and he had finally been forthright when he went into detail about how lost he felt.

 

But today – today was a _bad day_.

 

* * *

 

 

ALEXSTEFANCHRISABRAMABRAMJAMESLAURENTCONNORABRAM

 

Allison didn’t try to touch him.  Instead, she simply sat next to him, offering silent comfort while he bent over and screamed into his knees.  He was nearly hyperventilating, but his thoughts weren’t centered around nightmarish visions of his past or anything that would make him lash out violently.  This was all-too-human grief.

 

He’d forgotten a word in French.  It was as simple as that.  Having to scramble for a proper description – to stiltedly switch back to English as if all of his mother’s training and discipline had been for nothing – was devastating.  And then realizing that he couldn’t even remember his – Jacques’s – birthday was the breaking point.  He’d dropped Jacques like an overly warm coat, a second skin that was peeled off prematurely and left a fragile layer of screaming nerves.  Because what the _fuck_ was he underneath?  When there weren’t any pretenses, when he couldn’t _be_ anyone – shit, who was he _supposed_ to be?  So when Allison had immediately shoved him into her car when he’d begun to break down she had been a godsend when she pulled off onto the elementary school’s soccer field, where he could stumble out of the car to let his composure shatter.

 

Neil had been an act.  Abram had tried to play a nondescript, quiet kid.  All he had wanted was to play exy.  But Neil had dark hair, dark eyes – with his natural hair and eyes, Abram didn’t even _look_ like Neil anymore.  Sure, he’d gotten more and more reckless as the year went on, but Abram was far enough away from the situation now that he knew he’d only acted out because he’d been convinced he’d die before the end of the year anyway.

 

All of this – this _fucking pain_ – from the last year had been to maintain ‘Neil Josten.’  _Why_?  Why had he _done this_? 

 

Abram had been torn apart.  He was 23 pieces of a person, stitched together so messily that his insides mirrored his outside.  Christ – he wasn’t… he just _wasn’t_.

 

When his breathing had finally leveled out, Abram leaned to the side, resting his head on Allison’s shoulders.  She immediately laced their fingers together and gently squeezed.

 

“Back with me, Josten?”

 

‘Josten’ was okay.  ‘Abram’ still felt a little bit personal, it was something he’d shared with one person.  And it was something he wished he’d _never_ shared with that one person.

 

“I don’t know how to just _be_ , Ally.  I don’t even fucking know how to eat breakfast without thinking about which version of me would like what I’ve had.”

 

Allison let out an audible sigh as she exhaled.  After a minute or so of silence she seemed to have put together an answer.  She spoke slowly, but not carefully – Allison never talked down to him or treated him like some kind of invalid.  The rest of the Foxes had very, very clearly gotten the hint to stay away from him, but every once in a while one of his teammates would shoot him the kind of look that one gave to an injured animal – wary caution.

 

“This whole thing was kind of predictable.  And before you get bitchy on me, actually think about it.  You haven’t gotten to do what you wanted for most of your life.  So.  First question.  Do you actually _like_ playing exy?”

 

This was an easy one for Abram to answer.  It always had been.  Even as he’d gone through identities, shed each one like snakeskin before leaving a country and learning a new language, he’d loved the game.

 

“Yes.”

 

Allison nodded decisively, dislodging his head from her shoulder and making Abram lean back.

 

“Well then.  We’ve got somewhere to start.  You’ve already switched back to the accent your mom raised you with – that was a big step already.  So we’re going to play exy, and you’re going to buy me as many Robeks smoothies as I want for indulging your obsession.”

 

The sentiment – the comment on his obsession – was a little too close to the kind of thing Andrew used to say to Neil.  Abram tried to let it roll off his back, so instead of saying anything, he simply nodded before standing up and popping his back.  Without anywhere to go and without any real rush, the two of them drove back to his off-campus apartment.

 

* * *

 

 

ANDREW

 

Andrew didn’t believe in regret.  He was never out of control.  On the night he’d decided to end the nothingnothing _nothing_ between himself and Neil, he had known exactly what he was doing.  Andrew hadn’t wanted the idiot to draw it out or try to talk through it, so he’d gone about it in a way he knew would twist a knife between Neil’s fourth and fifth rib.  Neil had tried telling Andrew about his sexuality once, so Andrew had fucking _known_ that for Neil - Neil was the one stupid enough to have decided _Andrew_ was the person he should invest in.

 

Andrew didn’t believe in regret.  There was no point when past actions couldn’t be changed.

 

But Andrew had sat through enough sessions with Bee to know when he had to evaluate what he was feeling and try to put a name to it.  And the feeling that struck him now when he looked at Neil was something like ‘displeasure’.  That wasn’t be say he’d been feeling all that pleasurable when they’d – fuck.

 

They might not have been anything that could be given a name.  That didn’t mean that they hadn’t been in a nameless thing _together_.

 

Because that was the problem.  That was the exact fucking reason Andrew had ended things with Neil.  Neil had relied on him.  Neil had started to depend on him and count on him.  And when the slightest, smallest hint of that same thought process had hit Andrew… well.  It wasn’t something he had ever thought he’d have to deal with.

 

Andrew could assign a name to what he was feeling.  But it wasn’t something he was allowed to experience.  Andrew could recall in perfect, vivid detail the expression that had taken over Neil’s face when he’d seen the hickies on his chest.  The furrowed, confused brow that belied such fucking _innocent curiosity_ – and then the gutted, nauseous look that replaced it.  Neil hadn’t made eye contact with him in the moments following his realization, but the sound of his hitched breathing might have been just as expressive.

                                                                                                     

Andrew had told himself that his actions had been for the best.  For both of them.  God knows he should have felt relieved to cut off another tie.

 

Neil Josten had made him a liar.

 

Because in the early morning, when Andrew opened his eyes and looked at the bed he had all to himself, he remembered the dazed, soft expression he’d sometimes see from the man laying across the mattress.

 

And in the mornings, Andrew missed Neil _so fucking badly_.


End file.
